Shiraz and Silence
by PinkTeaRose
Summary: Shiraz and Silence: Four times Serena chose to drink and the one time she didn't.
1. Chapter 1

Shiraz and Silence

 _Four times Serena chose to drink and the one time she didn't._

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A/N:

This is my first Holby City fiction. I'm not as well versed in the HC world as some people are, so if there are mistakes or things that aren't quite canon, I completely own those errors.

I own nothing, all of these characters are the property of BBC.

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One.

People get used to the smell of hospitals. Certainly those that work there everyday become acquainted with the smell of antiseptic and alcohol, the smell of the scrubs and the rubber soles of the workers. But not Serena. No, she didn't think she'd ever become accustomed to the smell of Holby.

Everyday it was as if it was the first. She wasn't anxious the way she used to be coming into work, scared she'd do something wrong and get reprimanded. She had become adjusted to the usual ebb and flow of the hospital, the trauma unit.

But it was different since Bernie arrived. Maybe it was the newness of having another woman around, maybe it was those flirtatious glances she kept throwing her way. Serena felt herself anticipating each day on the ward as if it was new again, as it if were her first time being here.

She didn't know how Bernie's presence truly made her feel.

And when they were in the office together—dear Lord, she couldn't even concentrate. She'd place her fingers over the keyboard, ready to type in the reports for the day, and she'd just go blank. She couldn't think, couldn't work with Bernie in the room.

She smelled like fresh soap and clean linen, the blue of her scrubs bringing out the color of her eyes. The smell of Bernie's latte only added to the delicious bouquet—No, Serena definitely couldn't concentrate with Bernie in the room.

When she'd finally get called onto the ward, Serena could feel herself exhaling with relief yet aching for more. It was as if she couldn't get satisfied—she wanted her there, yet wanted her gone at the same time. Her brain couldn't wrap around this dialectic.

Treating patients was almost like a welcome relief after the tension in the office. Serena wondered if Bernie could feel it too, or if it was, at the end of the day, all in Serena's head. Bernie had been quiet these last couple of weeks, not saying much more than a passing "Hello," and Serena hadn't been able to muster much of a response either.

Finally, on Friday, Serena felt herself being able to get some work done. It had been a terribly long week, lots of patients in and out of the trauma unit, but Bernie had been busy too and away from the office. Serena felt that the distance had allowed her to think a little more clearly, and with Bernie completely out of sight all day on Friday, she felt herself get into the groove of filling out paperwork, most of which had been piling up throughout the week.

Serena moved through the stack of folders on her desk with methodical attachment. Now that she was able to concentrate, she remembered how easy it was to get lost in the many forms and files that required her attention. She didn't have to think, she could cut her brain off for a second and just type away.

After a few hours, she craned her neck this way and that to relieve some pressure, even though some doctors still say that popping one's neck isn't necessarily a smart or wise thing to do, and her eyes glanced at the clock. To her surprise, it was already long past time for her to leave, in fact, she'd technically been off for three hours.

Deciding to finish up what she had left, Serena shifted in her seat and committed herself to the last few files. Only an hour or so more of work, and she'd be free for the weekend.

At around ten o'clock, Serena closed the last of her files. Shutting down her computer, she eased herself off of the chair and made her way to the coat rack, where she donned her favorite red winter coat. Grabbing her bag, she placed her various pens and papers in their appropriate place and cut out the lamplight.

Serena had just made it to the elevator when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Much to her surprise, it was Bernie.

"You're here rather late aren't you?" Serena quipped.

Bernie gave a small laugh. "Could say the same thing for you."

"Touché," Serena smirked.

The elevator arrived and both women climbed aboard. There was an awkward silence between them. Both of them tried to break it at once, "So," "Well then."

"You first, Bernie."

"Ok," she shuffled her feet nervously. "Any plans after work? It is Friday, anyway."

"I don't," Serena immediately said, then regretted it. "Wait, I mean, I think I should get home to Jason. He didn't expect me out so late, and I'm frankly surprised he hasn't texted yet."

"Oh," Bernie said, slightly embarrassed. "Right, Jason, I forgot about him, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, no, it's fine."

The elevator arrived at the bottom floor.

"Actually," Serena said. "Let me see if he's still awake. If I don't get a response from him, perhaps I can join you."

Bernie smiled widely. "Great, that'd… that'd be great, Serena."

Pulling out her phone, Serena checked through her messages to find Jason's.

 _Hello, Jason, Sorry I was at the office late. Are you still awake? Do I need to come home?_

Bernie had moved towards the side of the building and was having a smoke. Serena couldn't help but think that she looked downright sexy with her hair blowing just so in the wind.

Her phone chimed.

 _Hi Auntie Serena. I'm going to bed. If you come home late, please be quiet. I am rather tired. See you in the morning._

"Looks like I'm off the hook!" Serena said. "Your car or mine?"

Bernie stubbed out her cigarette. "Yours, if you don't mind, mine's kind of a mess right now, I'd be embarrassed for you to see it."

"Suit yourself. Where to?"

"There's a little pub across town that I rather like, it's kind of quiet there. And they have a good wine list," Bernie smirked.

Serena laughed. "You know me better than I thought!"

The two made their way towards Serena's car, and Serena felt herself grow excited at the prospect of sharing an even tighter space with Bernie. As if the office wasn't bad enough, now they'd be here in the car together.

She slid into her seat and threw her bag to the bag of the car. Bernie climbed in and settled into the seat, not an easy feat with her long legs.

"Where to, Major?"

"Just come out of the parking lot there, go down a couple miles until you come to a four-way, take a right, and it should be just there on the left."

Serena laughed. "Okay, why don't you just tell me when to turn, I'm too tired to remember all of that!"

"Fine," Bernie said. To Serena's shock, she placed a hand a top of Serena's.

"How are you? Really? It's really good to see you, to be able to spend time with you, like this, you know."

Serena smiled back. "I'm fine, really. Thank you, Bernie."

She struggled to keep her eyes on the road ahead.

"You have just seemed so distant recently. I was starting to think I'd done something wrong."

"Oh, no, nothing of the sorts. Just have stuff on my mind, that's all. Nothing for you to worry yourself over, promise."

"But you'd tell me if it was?"

Serena glanced over and was surprised at how concerned Bernie's face truly appeared to be. She lowered her voice and tried to sound sincere. "Promise."

Bernie nodded. "This turn here, then that parking lot over there."

"Right-o."

The car bumped over the driveway and Serena pulled the car into a spot.

"Excellent driving, Ms. Campbell."

Serena smirked. "Why thank you, I do try my best."

The pub was dimly lit, and it was decorated with modern art pieces. Some of them looked fairly abstract, but Serena found them rather pleasing and interesting.

"Two, please," Bernie said to the small waitress.

"This way," she said, and led the couple towards a table in the back next to a rather large striped painting.

"I've thought about buying this painting," Bernie said. "No where to put it, though."

"Are you an art collector?" Serena asked.

"Goodness, no, I just liked the way this one looked, reminded me of a sunrise a bit, the way the colors fade."

Serena looked at it, and turned her head this way and that, as if to get a full sense of the piece.

"Yes I can see that, now that you mentioned it. I have to admit, I'm not really one for art work."

Bernie handed her a leather folder with the wine list.

"I'll let you pick the bottle."

"By the bottle, Ms. Wolfe! My kind of gal," she smiled.

The list was extensive, but Serena's eyes instantly went to the red section, then to the Shiraz.

"This one will do."

The waiter came back by and took their orders. Serena felt herself growing slightly uncomfortable again. It was hard to look at Bernie this close—she was a striking woman to say the least.

"So," Bernie began. "Are you going to that conference next month?"

"Conference?"

"The one in London? We got an email about it yesterday."

"We did?" Serena asked. "Let me check." She whipped out her phone and tapped her way over to her emails. "Oh here it is, let me read it."

As she was flipping through, the waiter came back with their bottles. Bernie took Serena's glass, filled it, and handed it back to the brunette.

"Thank you love. Let's see. It seems that it's mostly about oncology things, but there are a couple interesting looking seminars about trauma and surgery. Could be worth going to. What about you?"

Bernie took a sip of her wine. "Holy shit, this is amazing! You certainly can pick them, can't you," she grinned.

"Thank you, I rather like this one when I can find it."

"I can see why! And erm, well, I was waiting to see if you were going to go before I decided."

"Why's that?"

Bernie blushed. "I figured we could go together and maybe share a room," she quickly added, "to save money, of course."

Serena took a huge gulp of wine. She was having trouble sitting next to the woman—how on earth was she going to do a road trip and a hotel stay with her as well? But she wanted to agree, because spending more time with Bernie seemed like the greatest offer she'd had in a while.

"I'll think about it and let you know. It depends on Jason, and if we can find someone to cover our shifts," she said.

Bernie looked crestfallen. "Oh, right."

This time, Serena placed her hand on Bernie's. "But thank you for the offer, really, I do appreciate it."

"Sure," Bernie smiled, and gave Serena's hand a gentle squeeze. "So what kept you up at the office so late?"

Serena laughed. "Oh, paperwork, endless paperwork! I couldn't concentrate at all this week!"

"No, why's that?"

"Oh," Serena hesitated. "Well I was distracted, I suppose."

"Distracted? By what?"

Serena blushed. "By you."

"So I have done something wrong," Bernie said in a small voice.

"No! No, nothing wrong, it's just that," Serena hesitated. "I don't know how to feel around you," she admitted.

"What do you mean?" Bernie looked concerned.

"It's just that—you make me feel something that I haven't felt in a long time," Serena said. She took another gulp of her wine for courage. "It's just that I think about you a lot more than I think I should and it makes me feel… I don't know what… but it makes me unable to concentrate on my paperwork to say the least," she said.

Bernie gave a small smile. "I think about you a lot too, Serena."

"Then let's just leave it at that, shall we?" Serena said. "We think about each other."

"And occasionally distract each other from work," she smiled.

"Cheers," Serena lifted her glass.

"Cheers."

Serena smiled and finished off her glass of wine, and Bernie graciously poured her another.

The two stayed for another hour, talking about work, their colleagues, Jason. It was an easy conversation, now that the ice was broken. Serena felt good that at least the awkwardness had been addressed, and that maybe they could move forward, though what moving forward meant exactly, she didn't quite know.

Afterwards, she dropped Bernie back off at her car. Before exiting, Bernie leaned over and kissed Serena ever so lightly on the cheek.

"I had a great time," she whispered.

Serena smiled back, "Me too."

The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Bernie finally withdrew. Serena could still feel her kiss on her cheek long after she was gone. She pulled her car out of the parking lot and headed towards home, knowing that despite herself, she wished Bernie could come home, too.

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	2. Chapter 2

Shiraz and Silence

Two:

Bernie was going to leave.

No amount of pleading or begging was going to make her change her mind, not that Serena was one for either of those things. She'd already make quite enough of a scene at the hospital today, and for what? To be so publicly rejected and humiliated?

And yet, she felt herself opening her phone, going to her contact's list, and hovering her finger over Bernie's number. She wanted to call her, to ask her just once more to reconsider going away. She did want her more than she could even verbalized—and hadn't she done so with that kiss?

It wasn't enough, and she didn't know what to do.

How had they gotten to this point in such a short of amount of time? They were flirting, getting along so well, all those glances and touches in between times in the theatre, and yet Bernie still chose to leave.

Hurt beyond words, Serena had driven home in a hurry. It should have bothered her that she couldn't recall a single stop light, a single thing about the traffic on the way home, but it didn't. Her mind was too far away to think about such things.

Jason was already in bed, and for once, she was thankful to come home to a silent house. Not that she didn't truly value her time with her nephew, but she honestly didn't think she could put on a brave face after what happened today.

Opening the door, she felt a warm burst of air hit her face—Jason must have had the fireplace going. Sure enough, just around the corner, she could see little embers glowing in the grated fireplace.

Serena threw down her bag and made her way into the kitchen. A small light above the oven hummed quietly.

 _What a fucking day_.

Opening the fridge, she withdrew a chilled bottle of her favorite Shiraz and shut the door. On second thought, she opened the door open again and took out a second.

She took out a large class from her cabinet and resisted the urge to slam it shut—no need to wake up Jason and alert him to this private pity party.

Silly, really, to have this many feelings about Bernie. Just two lousy (okay, fantastic) kisses and she was smitten. Where was her resolve, her steely reserve? It was as if Bernie had walked in a removed all of that with one bat of her brilliant eyes.

Serena sat down and opened the first bottle and poured a generous glass.

She tried to remember the first time she'd had Shiraz. _Probably with Edward_ , she thought. _What a change, from Edward to Bernie_.

She remembered the first time Edward took her to a winery. They had gone around for a whole afternoon and evening tasting, sampling, and nothing had tickled her fancy except the Shirazes and Merlots. Apparently she had a thing for the dry reds.

The sip of wine sent a line of warmth straight into her core—it felt blissful.

In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't be solving her emotional problems with alcohol, goodness knows that caused enough problems with her first husband. But on the other hand, what else could she do except for sit here in the half-darkness missing Bernie?

For Serena, red wine had become her poison of choice. Sure, she'd have champagne at parties or a beer at a pub. But red wine—there was something about it that made her crave more. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd only had just one glass. She always had to have the whole bottle.

She finished the first glass and already felt the tension easing from her neck. Filling it back up with more, she made her way to the back porch. There was a pack of fags that she'd left out there from the weekend before, and although she knew they'd probably be a bit stale, she took one out anyway and lit it up.

 _Shiraz and cigarettes, a fine substitute for a Friday night dinner_ , she laughed at herself. What a mess this entire thing was, how utterly ridiculous that as a grown woman she was still reduced to feelings of teenage angst over Bernie.

It was only two months, anyway, not like she wouldn't get through it. Maybe after two months Bernie would be ready for something steady, something real. Maybe distance was what they needed.

Serena took another gulp of wine, then another, then another. The second glass was gone even faster than the first. Her head felt warm and fuzzy.

Finishing her cigarette, she went back inside and took the blanket from around the back of the sofa. Wrapping it around herself, she plopped down on the couch and felt tears prick the back of her eyes.

 _No, damn it, I will not cry! I will not!_ But against her will, a few tears rolled down her alabaster cheeks and dropped silently onto the tartan blanket.

Okay, so she was a bit heartbroken, after all. She thought that maybe she was special enough to make Bernie stay. It was a hard pill to swallow, that she wasn't worthy enough to make Bernie change her mind.

She wondered if there was anything she could have done differently. Was her appeal to public? Should she have acted more reserved, more stoic? Serena filled a third glass.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, she flipped on the TV to the news station, but her mind kept floating back to Bernie's face, to Bernie turning around and leaving for good.

Maybe Serena shouldn't look forward to her coming back. Maybe she should get tough and hard and forget all about the blonde woman. Obviously she didn't want a relationship with her, so why even keep being friends? Clearly even their friendship wasn't enough to keep her here, so why should Serena hold out hope that when she returned it would be different?

She was so mad, she practically chugged down the third glass. Filling up the fourth, the bottle was nearly done. Not caring anymore, she finished off the rest of the bottle, bringing the green glass to her lips and gulping it down with one go.

This was the last thing she had expected her night to turn in to. How could a day be filled with so many conflicting emotions—the high of finally kissing Bernie again, the low of watching her walk away for good—it was too much for one person.

Serena went back to the table and grabbed the wine opener and worked open the second bottle. She could feel her eyes struggling to adjust, and her legs felt wobbly underneath her.

She sat back down and resumed her fourth glass. _No,_ she thought to herself _. She didn't need Bernie Wolfe at all_.

Wine, that was all she needed, wine would never let her down. She could always open up a bottle and get that warm, intoxicating feeling from it, it would not abandon her when she needed it.

The TV flashed lights across her face, making the shadows dance upon her elegant features. Serena breathed in the smell of the still smoldering fire, the Shiraz, and at her core, she felt herself wishing still that Bernie could be here.

 _Damn her_ , she thought. _Damn her straight to hell_.

With the fourth glass gone, she started in on her second bottle. Unable to pay attention to the TV, she decided to just take the bottle upstairs with her.

The stairs were slightly challenging in Serena's slippery socked feet, but she managed to climb them without making too much noise. Once in her bedroom, she quietly closed the door and made her way into the bathroom.

A hot bath. That was what she needed.

Placing the bottle and glass on the floor, Serena cut the water onto its highest and hottest setting and poured in some salts and soap. The water began to bubble and fiz, and the smell of jasmine and lavender filled the air. Steam swirled around the bathroom and began to fog up the glass.

Serena removed her outer blouse, then her camisole and bra. She rubbed the lines that had formed on her back and stomach from the tightness of the fabric. Pulling down her pants and underwear, she resumed her wine glass and slipped down into the hot water. Her skin turned pink then flushed red at the contact. The water hurt a little bit, but the sting felt good.

Sinking down, Serena gulped down more of her wine. She rested her head against the cool tile and wondered if it was going to get any better for her, or if the next two months would be equally agonizing.

She thought about Bernie. Those hips, those legs, the way her hands danced across the keyboard as she worked on that awful paperwork. She was going to miss every part of her coworker, and she could hardly stand it.

And that kiss—good Lord above could that woman kiss. She tasted so sweet, with just a hint of the latte she'd had earlier in the day. She smelled like soap and a hint of vanilla, just like coming home. Serena had wanted to hide in her forever, to wrap her arms around the blonde and never let go.

But she had to let go. She was made to let go.

Two glasses finished, the bottle was nearly halfway gone. Now definitely drunk, Serena felt her eyes growing heavy. The water was beginning to grow lukewarm, and the bubbles had subsided. With a low sigh, she hoisted herself up and out of the tub and wrapped herself in a soft, plush towel.

She padded her way to the sink and wiped off the mirror. She had some streaks of mascara running down her face, and her hair stuck limply against her forehead. Running the water, she washed her face thoroughly and ran a comb through her brown hair.

Picking up her nightgown off the floor, she put it on her and grabbed the rest of the wine. She stumbled a bit as she made her way back to bed—the wine was certainly asserting its potency.

Throwing back the duvet, Serena placed the bottle on the bedside table. She climbed into bed and flipped on the TV, just so she didn't have to go to bed in silence.

 _No more Bernie_ , she whispered to herself. _Must forget about Bernie._

She brought the bottle to her lips, for she'd forgotten the glass in the bathroom, and polished it off in a few gulps. She resisted the urge to throw the bottle against the room, and she felt tears threatening their way back into her eyes.

Burying her face in her pillow, she fought back the sobs as they made their way into her throat.

Tomorrow would be a long day indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**-AN: Sorry it has taken me a while to write this. I have recently graduated and though I have had more time on my hands, I haven't found the inspiration to write. BUT I've been reading a lot of good fictions recently and I'm ready to dive back in, so thanks to everyone who has supported and encouraged me through all my writing endeavors. You are appreciated more than you know!**

 **Xxxxxxxxx**

For the third time that day, Serena googled the symptoms for depression. She knew she fit the criteria, but didn't have the nerve to do anything about it.

Sure, she'd been in bed for nearly 17 hours over the weekend at one go, but who's to tell her not to after such a long busy week? Who's to say it wasn't just normal exhaustion?

But she knew it was more. Deep down, she knew the reason for her sudden change in mood.

Loneliness. That was something Serena wasn't used to feeling. There were many times when her ex-husband had been away. Hell, since she'd gotten a divorce, she'd had more than plenty of nights on her own, but nothing compared to the empty, gnawing feeling that she felt each night since Bernie left.

When she came home, it was the same desperate ache that nothing could fill. The void that she felt was inescapable except under the harsh fluorescent lights of the theatre. It seeped into her pores, into the middle of her bones.

Today was a Sunday, and Sundays are the very worst. The weekend's dull ache still clinging to her, et the week ahead not yet real enough to make her feel any lighter.

Bernie had not so much as sent one text message or email. Serena feared that Bernie didn't miss her at all.

The Sunday doldrums are different than the rest of the weekend. Saturday is an easy day to be depressed- one can lounge all day long in bed and make the excuse that it's natural, normal, that any working woman would take advantage of the first full day off to sleep. But Sunday, no, that was a day when people lived their life, when they went to church, ate lunch with their families, spent the afternoon shopping downtown or at the local farmer's market. Sunday was a day that one was supposed to use to prepare for the week, to meal prep, to get clothes sorted, to do the dishes. But Serena couldn't do any of that. All she could do was stare at her phone, Googling the symptoms of depression.

She closed the browser window and went back (for the millionth time) to the messages, back to her last texts with Bernie, unable to add anything new to the conversation. Her messages log was pathetic.

 _Hey._

 _Hi, Bernie, just wanted to drop in and say hello._

 _Miss you._

 _Thinking of you._

 _Hey._

All of them had gone unanswered. No, Serena couldn't bring herself to add another useless message to the list.

Jason had a shift at the hospital today, so the house was even more quiet than usual. This didn't help Serena's mood at all.

Her mind went back to a memory, one she held so fondly, of her and Bernie at Albie's having a drink. She remembered the smell of Bernie's whiskey, and though Serena had never been one for the drink, thought that it was the most heavenly scent she'd ever been privy to.

Whiskey. That sounded like the best idea she'd had today.

Throwing off the bed sheets, Serena rolled out of bed and stumbled her way into the bathroom. She'd been in her pajamas since Friday evening, and her hair was sticking out in all sorts of places. Serena tried to avoid the mirror, her reflection was too honest for her liking, but she had to face herself as she ran a brush through her unruly strands.

On the floor sat her outfit from Friday. _Good enough_ , she thought, and hastily put on the clothing.

It was colder outside than she'd expected, and she regretted not grabbing a coat before leaving, but it was too late to turn back, she'd already had her mind made up.

She drove to the nearest store and bought an expensive malt whiskey, one that she thought Albie's might have served to Bernie. Whiskey wasn't her drink, but hell, she was willing to try anything to make this loneliness cease.

Back inside, she quickly grabbed a glass from the cabinet and made her way back upstairs. Once in her bedroom, she opened her window to let some fresh air in and pulled her chair over towards it so she could look outside at the people passing below.

How oblivious they were, she thought, to all of her suffering. Look at them, going about their business, their daily lives, not knowing the torment and hurt that Serena felt, hovering above in that window.

She unscrewed the whiskey and poured herself a generous helping. Bernie used to drink hers with a few chunks of ice, but Serena decided to take it straight up.

Her first gulp burned her throat so badly she nearly spit it out entirely. How on earth could Bernie drink this stuff? Serena coughed and tried to steady her hand. She sternly told herself _Mother didn't raise no bitch, if Berenice fucking Wolfe can drink this, so can bloody I!_ And gulped down another hefty swig.

 _Oh god, this really is terrible,_ Serena thought to herself. No way in hell she was going to be able to drink this straight. But she also didn't have any soda in the house to dilute it. Would water work?

 _Mother didn't raise no bitch!_ Her brain insisted.

"Fuck you, Berenice Wolfe," Serena muttered to herself, finishing the last of the glass with a big swallow. "Oh Jesus, dear God, how the fuck does she do this."

Serena pursed her lips and shook her head as she poured another shot. "If she can do this, I can do this," she repeats to herself.

She tookanother sip. Again nearly spits it out. Her face contorts. She is regretting this idea immensely.

Already, her stomach is burning and her head is feeling a little bit lighter. How on earth can Bernie handle this? Is that what the army does to you?

Another sip. "No, no, I cannot do this," she says. Serena put the glass down and stared out the window. A woman passes by with a baby in a carriage. She is briefly taken back to a time when Elinor was little, when she'd take her out for strolls in the neighborhood just to get out of the stuffy house. How long ago was that? How times have changed since then- how can Serena simultaneously feel so old when she thinks about her children yet so young in her angst for Bernie?

She looked back down at the glass. _One more sip_ , she tells herself.

It burns so badly, but this time, Serena's ready for it. She grits her teeth, downs the rest.

Xxxxxx

The sun was low in the sky when Serena found herself slumped over in her chair by the window. She hadn't even made it to bed the night before.

Head pounding, she walked to the bathroom and cut on the lights. The glare from the white walls made her head spin, and she resisted the urge to vomit.

Reaching for a glass, she turned on the sink and let the water run for a few seconds before filling it to the brim and chugging it down.

When she looked in the mirror, she was taken aback by what she saw. Shame and guilt crept over her.

What she saw wasn't herself. Instead, she felt like she was looking back in time to her previous marriage, to Edward. She was becoming everything she never wanted to be- someone who had to rely on alcohol to cope.

She filled up the glass again and shook her head. _No more whiskey,_ she vowed.

Her watch lay on the vanity. She had a solid two hours before she had to be in work.

Determined, resolved, Serena stripped and turned to the shower. Blasting the water as hot as she could stand, she stood underneath the pulsing water and let it cleanse her. _No more sadness, no more longing._

She washed her hair with rough strokes, as if she could manually erase the memories of Bernie. The shampoo smelled sweet and crisp, and Serena felt herself coming back to life.

Cutting of the water, she got out and wrapped herself in a towel. Today, she would dress to kill- full makeup and heels.

She selected a red silk top and slim-fitting pants, cut just enough to show off her Louboutins.

The sun was bright, and Serena felt her mood shift as she dressed. Perhaps things between her and Bernie would never be, but she wasn't going to lose herself to the sadness anymore.

"Auntie Serena," Jason called. "Do you want some coffee?"

Serena took a deep breath and slipped on her shoes.

"Yes, thank you!" she called out. "Heading down in a moment!"

She walked back into the bathroom and applied her makeup, taking extra care to use plenty of mascara.

For the first time in a while, Serena felt the tension in her jaw ease, and she smiled out into the morning.

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	4. Chapter 4

The car crash on the highway had not been too serious, but serious enough that both victims had to be rushed into theatre as soon as they arrived to Holby. Serena had been at her desk working on much overdue paperwork when the call came in, and she groaned inwardly at the prospect of falling even further behind. Not that she minded the break, really, but she knew Hanssen wouldn't wait much longer on those files. As the patients came in, Serena hurried herself towards the theatre and donned her signature leopard print cap. A nurse quickly filled her in on what needed to be done- repairing a few ruptured arteries- and Serena nodded and listened as she scrubbed her hands.

After the surgery, she still had about an hour or so left in the workday. Try as she might, she couldn't will her mind to focus on the task at hand, and much of the hour went by without Serena finishing much of anything. Her coffee on her desk had gone cold, and the chocolate au pan she'd had for breakfast seemed ever so far away. She couldn't wait to get takeaway and settle in with a good bottle of Shiraz.

The drive home was uneventful, and it didn't bother Serena that she couldn't remember a single stoplight. She'd opted for baked ziti from a local Italian place, and her mouth was watering at the prospect of Parmesan cheese. Although she loved her nephew, Serena was glad that Jason would be at his girlfriend's house tonight. She needed an evening alone to regroup and recenter. She entered her front door and kicked off her shoes, not bothering to place them neatly against the wall. In the kitchen, she began unwrapping her food and grabbing utensils from the drawer. She studied her always-full wine rack and selected a rather large bottle of Shiraz. She put her things on the table and shucked off her jacket. Too lazy to go upstairs and change, she plopped down at the table and tucked in.

Halfway through the meal and most of the way through her first bottle, her phone rang. Her heart leapt when Bernie's picture flashed on the screen. It was her favorite picture, a candid shot of Bernie in blue scrubs with her arms crossed. She looked simultaneously serious and playful, a cheeky expression that only Bernie could pull off.

"Hello, Major," she said, her voice dropping.

"Hello back," Bernie said, a smile evident in her voice.

"Busy day?"

"Oh, the usual. Paperwork today for ordering equipment. And you?"

"Same, except for a car crash this afternoon. Some artery repairs were needed."

"Ah, I see. Miss me?"

"In theatre?" Serena joked.

Bernie gave a honk, "Yes, well, no, but I guess yes, do you miss me there?"

Serena smiled. "I miss working with you, Bernie, you know that."

"But in theatre especially?"

"Especially there."

They were silent for a moment, their longing evident through the telephone. The distance seemed so great somedays, other days it felt like they could just reach across the phone and be there.

"Serena?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I have something I'd like to try, if that's okay," Bernie asked.

Interested, Serena sat up in her seat, "Go on."

"I'd like to see you take a bath. We've got these fancy video phones, why not do something a little bit..."

"Naughty?" Serena replied.

"Mmm, yes, something like that."

"And how would one go about doing that?" Serena asked.

"Just prop up the phone on your shelf. It's the perfect height for me to see you."

Serena thought about it. "Yes alright, just let me grab another bottle and I'll head upstairs."

She hung up and felt her face blush. Being naked on camera? Wasn't that something she'd warned Elinor not to do? And here she was, halfway tipsy getting ready to strip for no one other than Bernie Bloody Wolfe.

Serena grabbed another bottle and went upstairs. She had barely shut the door when her phone went off in her hand. She clicked on.

"I'm just upstairs, Bernie,"

"Don't take off your clothes yet. I want to watch you," she said.

"Oh I bet you do," Serena crooned. "On my shelf you said?"

She turned around and placed her phone on the shelf. It wouldn't stay by itself, so she had to prop it up against a couple bars of soap.

"Can you see me?"

"Yes, can you see me?"

"Not so well, but it will work."

"You sure? You're okay with this?" Bernie asked.

"Positive."

Serena grabbed the bottle and took a large gulp. Then, she turned slightly, peering over her shoulder to the camera, and gave Bernie a grin. Ever so slowly, her fingers made their way down her blouse, unbuttoning each with small movements. She turned around to the front and let the blouse fall over her shoulders, revealing the black camisole beneath.

"Steady on, soldier," Serena called out.

"I'm... I'm very steady," Bernie replied.

Serena took a deep breath and brought her hands to the bottom of her camisole and lifted it up to reveal bare breasts. She heard Bernie's sharp intake of breath.

"Going braless, hey Campbell?"

"Didn't see much point after surgery today."

Serena turned and cut on the water towards its hottest setting. While still turned, she slid off her pants just so Bernie could catch the roundness of her through the lens.

"Dear god," Bernie inhaled.

Serena blushed, stood up, and proceeded to remove her panties with learned ease. Although she still felt slightly ill at ease with the whole "on camera" bit, she felt herself growing bolder and she heard Bernie's breath hitch.

"Get in the bath," Bernie said.

"Let me move you lower," Serena moved towards the phone and moved it towards a lower shelf.

"Mmmm," Bernie said. "That's one helluva view!"

"Hush, you," Serena blushed.

Serena stepped back and made her way into the tub, her flesh turning pink at the hotness of it. She lowered herself down gently and closed her eyes as the steam rose up. The water rushed against her spine and made her shiver against the heat.

"Relaxed?" Bernie asked.

"Mmmhm."

"Touch yourself," Bernie said, almost pleadingly. Serena withdrew a hand out of the water and made lazy circles around her breast, slowing down ever so slightly as she came across her nipple, and repeated the movement on her other breast.

"Pinch them," she heard Bernie say, and she did, and she arched her back against the sensation.

"With your other hand, lower."

Serena kept her eyes shut as she drew her hand up along her thigh, coming to rest just short of where Bernie wanted her, where she wanted to be.

"Lower where?" Serena teased. She opened her eyes and looked at Bernie, who seemed to be sitting very close to her telephone screen.

"Please," Bernie said.

"Use your words, Bernie,"

"I want to see you touch yourself," she breathed.

Serena lowered her hand and closed her eyes once more. She imagined Bernie there with her, that it was her arms wrapping around her frame, that it was her fingers pressing up against her sex. She arched back against the tub and lifted one leg over the side for better access.

"God, Serena."

Serena continued her movements, her fingers quickly finding a comfortable rhythm in the hot water. She bit her lip, pinched her nipple, and could feel herself growing hot with desire.

"Faster,"

And she did, and she moaned low in her throat, her body leaning into the touch, wanting more, needing more. She pictured Bernie there, all sinewy limbs and golden hair, and she moved her fingers against herself faster.

"Now inside," Bernie commanded, and Serena pushed two fingers inside, and moaned at the feeling of her arousal. Although the water was hot, she swore that she was hotter inside, and felt her walls pulsing around her fingers. She didn't push inside far, but curled them up against her walls and let her thumb continue delicious patterns against her clit.

"Slower," Bernie nearly whispered, and Serena felt herself whimper at the loss of friction, but also felt compelled to obey her lover's orders.

But the slower pace seemed only to increase her need for more, and she felt herself growing taut in anticipation.

"Faster."

Serena moaned out and bucked her hips forward, desperate to reach the finish. Her head was thrown back against the tub and her brow was furrowed in concentration. Her fingers curled and pushed against her, and she knew she wouldn't last long.

"I'm..." she started.

"Yes, come for me," Bernie said.

Serena bit her lip and continued working her fingers. Sweat prickled at her forehead and her toes curled. Ever so close, she moaned out Bernie's name before her orgasm started. She pressed her fingers even harder and her legs trembled with awakened nerve endings. As her orgasm rushed over her, she ground her hips down and cried out.

As her climax faded, Serena opened her eyes and slowly withdrew her hand, licking her fingers for Bernie's pleasure.

"Holy fuck, Serena."

Serena laughed and sat up in the tub. "That was good for me, was it good for you?"

Bernie gave a laugh, "Yes! Of course it was! Now hurry up so I can see your face up close again!"

"Alright, alright."

Serena moved forward and dipped herself down into the water. She ran her fingers through her hair and enjoyed the sensation of being submerged. When she sat up, she could hear Bernie readjusting herself through the phone.

"Okay toweling off!" She called.

Serena stepped out of the shower and ran a towel over herself. She grabbed her red silk robe and tied it loosely around her, then grabbed her phone from the shelf.

Much to her surprise, she found Bernie had readjusted herself on the bed so that she was lying naked, her top half exposed to the camera.

"Feeling yourself there aren't we, Major," Serena chuckled.

Bernie laughed, "Thought I might give you a bit of a show since you were so kind to me."

Serena felt herself growing wet again just thinking about Bernie on display for her. "The night is young, yet, my love," she said.

Bernie smirked. "Hop in bed, Campbell, we'll make a night of it, yet."

Serena grabbed the Shiraz off the floor and took another gulp.

"Off to bed then, shall we?"

She heard the buzz of the vibrator kick on, and Bernie's lids fluttered shut.

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End file.
